


Made For Each Other

by Reis_Asher



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Consensual Sex, Failed Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), First Time, Hotels, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, M/M, Oral Sex, Original Character Death(s), Penis In Vagina Sex, Protective Hank Anderson, Sexual Slavery, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Violence, Violent Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 06:01:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23410105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: After Connor shoots Markus, ending the violent android revolution, he reports to CyberLife to be deactivated. Desperate to recoup the costs that the loss of consumer trust has caused, CyberLife decide to sell Connor's "virginity" in a high-profile auction. Watching the worst of humankind line up to buy Connor's body, Hank is disgusted and depressed by the whole affair.Hank's still trying to understand why Connor, a seemingly empathetic android who saved his life, chose not to deviate and instead ended the android uprising by force. Determined to change Connor's awful fate, he sets about devising a plan to visit Connor one last time, in the hopes he can convince Connor to deviate and go on the run with him instead.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 3
Kudos: 87





	Made For Each Other

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Suicidal behavior, including ideation, planning, and risky behavior both past and present (by Hank). Alcohol abuse/alcoholism. Violence, blood, death of original villainous character and unnamed side characters. The concept of virginity and its sale to the highest bidder, as well as the tearing of an android's "seal" (by Hank, consensually). Reference to android sexual violence. Reference to off-screen general transphobia. An uncertain ending.
> 
> Notes: I feel like I worked on this fanfic for an age and I was still correcting things in the text box. I've spent at least ten hours on this one-shot, so I hope it's a good one. I've had this idea floating around in my head for a long time but I was nervous about writing it because it's a pretty grim premise. Let me know what you think!

_"CyberLife announced today that it would be auctioning off the virginity of its recent prototype, the RK800 'Connor' model, after several wealthy investors expressed an interest. After the recent violence by malfunctioning machines was quelled, CyberLife wants to reassure the public that androids are safe. The clean-cut, nice boy image of its recent detective prototype marks a new era for CyberLife in which it seeks to put deviancy in the past and show that when it comes to machines, humans are in control."_

Hank's fingers trembled as he loaded the bullet into his revolver and spun the chamber. He was sure that Connor was deviant, and yet he'd gone on to complete his mission. He'd killed Markus and ended the hopes of a movement. He was single-handedly responsible for the deaths of deviants all over the country. He'd put them down with a callousness that could only have come from a machine incapable of human emotion.

Yet… that machine had saved Hank's life on more than one occasion. Proclaimed he could feel fear. Let deviants escape. Connor didn't deserve this. It made Hank sick to the stomach to think about Connor being sold off for sex to some limp-dick billionaire with an android fetish. Heaven knows what they'd end up doing to him. CyberLife didn't care. Connor had served his purpose, and now he was as disposable to them as any other stock model android.

Hank exhaled a deep sigh. Connor wasn't his problem. There had been so many times when he was sure Connor was alive, and yet it was possible he'd just been going through the motions, a convincingly programmed machine. It hurt Hank when he thought about how he'd been manipulated into acting against deviants. By the time he'd woken up, it was already too late. He'd had to throw Connor off a rooftop to save his own life. His fascination should have ended there, but his dreams and nightmares were full of the brown-eyed boy who got away.

One quandary kept Hank up at night. If he was a perfect machine, Connor should have shot the blonde android at Kamski's place. She was a test, one he'd failed spectacularly by pulling the gun away. He'd told Hank he just couldn't. He'd seen her as a living being.

But not Markus, apparently. Not the movement as a whole. He hadn't just let it fail. He'd acted against Hank and put the bullet in Markus' head himself.

Perhaps he couldn't deviate. Hank tormented himself with the possibility Connor was trapped inside himself, able to think, feel, and enjoy a degree of freedom, as long as he completed his core objectives. Led along by a carrot that was the illusion of freedom, just enough to stop Connor being able to achieve free will of his own.

Was this auction some kind of stress test, then? Did they want to find out if Connor could deviate, given the right circumstances? He imagined Connor, alone in a hotel room with a partner he'd never choose for himself. Forced to say yes, even as he cried inside. He'd seen the aftermath of brutal murders and sex crimes until they barely registered on his radar, but the thought of Connor being subjected to such inhumanity twisted his gut until he tasted bile in his mouth.

Hank slammed his revolver down on the table, biting his lip as he sucked in a sharp breath of tepid air. He couldn't check out yet. Not while Connor still needed him.

_"I was scared…"_ Connor's voice echoed in his memory. Those wide, brown, frightened eyes had pulled Hank's heartstrings so much it had taken everything in him not to hold Connor close. Tell him everything would be all right. Tell him that nothing would ever happen to him as long as Hank drew breath.

Maybe if he had, he wouldn't be sitting here right now. Things might have turned out far differently. He haunted himself with that in the small hours—that the death of deviancy sat on his shoulders, too, and he had played no small part in its demise. He'd failed his own Kamski Test, failing to admit that he needed Connor, that he cherished the boy enough to open up to him about his past.

But at some point, that 'boy' had chosen to attack him. Their fight on the rooftop hadn't been pretty. It was kill or be killed, and he'd let Connor die, knowing that his memory would be uploaded. Connor could come back. It was bitter to think that in the moment, he'd found self-preservation instincts within himself only to go right back to contemplating his own suicide. He'd thrown Connor off that rooftop acting like the android's life had less value than one Hank played Russian Roulette with on a daily basis.

Connor probably thought Hank hated him. He did, in a way. He hated that the deviant revolution had failed, and that Connor had been the one to end it. He hated that Connor hadn't broken through the wall of his own programming to embrace the kindness he'd shown Hank. Did he think it was a weakness to show human emotion? Had Hank taught him that it was?

Hank pushed the table back, stood up, and stalked away from the gun, disgusted with himself. He was tired of playing these games. Sick of dealing with this malfunction that caused him to play with death in hopes it would bite back. He had to take action instead of doing one more lap around the infinite loop in his mind.

He had to save Connor, somehow.

***

Hank meager online bid was a drop in the ocean, swallowed in the sea of rich men's pocket money like it had never existed. Connor's virginity sold for a million dollars and change, more than Hank's total assets and the nice 401k fund he'd built. The images of Connor displayed naked in the auction listing had been an eye-opener, though Hank felt guilty for even setting eyes on them. Even more for jerking off to them like he was a teenager again with his first Playboy magazine. CyberLife had built Connor with a vaginal biocomponent, featuring an enlarged clitoris that functioned as a tiny penis. Someone at CyberLife had a thing for trans guys, clearly, but the clientele didn't see Connor as that. Just as some rare exotic prize that needed its seal busted open on a fat dick. The words Hank saw used in the comments on the listing to describe Connor's sex, gender, and species made Hank feel physically sick, and he walked away from the computer ready to play with his revolver again. Only the delight that swelled inside him when he thought of Connor broke him out of the loop.

He drank a lot that night to try and forget. He left the TV on in the background, hoping to catch one more glimpse of Connor's face. His heart skipped a beat as he saw Connor being escorted out of a vehicle. His chestnut eyes looked sad, and Hank wished he could reach through the television and protect him from all the evils of the world.

_"The RK800 unit that has raised a lot of controversy over the auction of its so-called virginity checked into the Downtown Inn this evening. According to CyberLife, the winner of the auction will be escorted to the Royal Suite as soon as he lands tonight, where he will claim his prize. The winner has been revealed to be President Aris, a divisive figure who has proceeded over ethnic cleansing in his home country of—"_

Hank clicked off the television and finished the bottle of whiskey. His badge sat on the table, next to his gun. He was still a respected homicide detective. He could go to the Downtown Inn and make up an excuse. Get a few minutes with Connor. If he couldn't convince the boy to deviate in that time, then… there was nothing else he could do. His conscience would be clean. His life would be over, but he could rest easy knowing he'd done all he could. One way or another, he could resolve the loop and finally come to a conclusion.

He made a cup of coffee and set about sobering himself up a little. Not enough to give this obviously bad idea a second thought, but enough to give him the confidence to pull off the ruse without seeming like the washed-up alcoholic fool that he was.

He dressed, hiding his gun in a holster underneath his long coat and heading out into the cold winter air. Snow crunched beneath his feet like gravel and swirled around him like a warning of bigger things to come. Hank knew that he couldn't convince Connor to deviate and run away with him, he'd probably end things tonight. He was tired of going through the motions, trying to find a reason to cycle through one more day. Connor had been the reason for a while, now, but without him, there was nothing to live for. Just another winter where he obsessed about black ice on the road like he could lock up the horse after it had bolted.

With that somber thought, he got in the car and started driving, his own brain's autopilot just as good as any self-driving vehicle's. Before he knew it, he was pulling into the Downtown Inn. It was a homely name for a rich man's hotel, gold plated door frames covering the fact that the world's cruelest citizens stayed here. The concept of a war criminal sticking his cock inside Connor made him want to retch. Connor deserved a gentle first time, with someone he loved. Not this prick… but not Hank, either. Hank wanted him, but he knew he could never deserve Connor. Not in a million years.

His resolve started to flounder. Why was he here? What did he expect to get out of seeing Connor, even in the unlikely event he could get up to his room? What could he possibly say or do to make Connor deviate that he hadn't already?

"Excuse me, sir?" A deep, rich baritone tore Hank from his reverie and he realized he was being challenged by the doorman. Of course he was. His shabby coat and loud shirt marked him out as the kind of person who couldn't afford to stay at a place like this. The doorman probably thought he was another homeless Detroit native looking for a place to sleep.

"Lieutenant Anderson, DPD." Hank flashed his badge before he could be shooed away. "I'm here to investigate a threat made against this hotel. It's related to the RK800 auction."

"I've heard of no such threat." The doorman narrowed his eyes, suspicion paramount in his expression. It was too late to change tack now, so Hank decided to double down on his story.

Hank lowered his voice so it was barely above a whisper, his low tone almost threatening. "Well yeah, they don't exactly go around tellin' everyone about it. If a foreign president is gonna be here on U.S. soil, I need to make sure it doesn't become a diplomatic incident."

"He has a full staff of bodyguards, and besides, I'd expect someone a bit more senior than a local detective. Sir." 

"Let me see your manager." Hank sucked in a breath. "For fuck's sake, you think I'd be out in this cold, this late at night, if it wasn't urgent?"

That seemed to sway him. The doorman led Hank to the waiting area and went to fetch a manager. Passing the buck would take any responsibility off his shoulders, at least, and Hank usually found management to be a bunch of hapless fools, oblivious to what actually happened in their places of employment. He might have an easier time of it trying to convince someone who didn't deal with tall tales from desperate folks on a daily basis. Hank eyed the tasteless tile floor that made the vestibule look like a chess board as he waited in a green leather chair. The kind of assholes who stayed here played chess with human lives on a whim, so it was fitting, in a way. The chair was so comically small he had to cross his legs, and his sides were squashed uncomfortably against the armrests.

"Lieutenant… Anderson?" The manager was an older woman, who shook his hand courteously. Hank was grateful for his luck. Older folks generally had a little more trust in the police than the younger generation, and it was that trust he needed to exploit tonight.

"We just got word of a possible threat, ma'am. The threat was very specific, and mentioned a suspicious package in the Royal Suite. I'm sure it's just a hoax, but it's better to be safe than sorry…"

"We'll have an employee check it out. Should we evacuate?" The lady glanced at a telephone on the counter. If she called the DPD to verify, Hank was going home empty-handed. He could claim it was a drunken prank, but he'd receive disciplinary action for sure. He'd be turning in his badge rather than face it. It wasn't worth the continued humiliation of watching his reputation go down in flames. Ben liked to tiptoe around it, but even he was starting to lose respect for Hank. This would be the last straw. Trying to see a robot one last time like he was a desperate, jilted ex-lover? Hank would be a laughing stock.

"I doubt you'd want to trouble your high-profile guests over some college kid's idea of a prank," Hank continued, "but someone needs to check it out. Just let me go up and take a look around. Like I said, it's just a hoax, but I gotta make sure. After that, I can leave you in peace."

"I suppose it's all right, Lieutenant. You've done a lot for this city." The lady pulled a keycard from her pocket and pressed it into Hank's hand, and a pang of guilt shot through him as he realized she knew him somehow. Maybe just from the news, or some case he'd worked and long forgotten. He was exploiting that familiarity for his own personal use, and it hit a sour note to know he'd stooped this low just to see Connor one last time. "Please let me know the outcome of your investigation. The reputation of this hotel depends on it."

Hank bit back an apology as he pocketed the keycard and called the elevator. The doors opened at once, and he was surprised to see there wasn't an android manning the elevator. Perhaps the rich and terrible didn't enjoy standing in an elevator with an android who could possibly record their conversations. The Royal Suite was on the top floor, and he had to scan the keycard to obtain access. He drew in a deep breath as the elevator rose to the forbidden floor, half-expecting the corridor at the top to be full of security guards. They would see through his thin story before he could even open his mouth.

The doors opened to reveal an opulent corridor, filled with clashing colors and more gold than Hank had seen in his life. He was sure even the wallpaper used real gold leaf in its embossed paisley design. Hank expected a number of hotel employees or a CyberLife minder he would have to talk his way around, but the suite seemed empty. He turned left, wandering through a vast open area with a swimming pool and real palm trees, and into a sitting room that looked like it was designed for a king. Eventually he found his way into the master bedroom, which had been off the main hallway all along. If he'd turned right instead of left, he'd have found it immediately.

"You're here early." Connor's familiar voice made Hank's chest swell as the lights came up slightly. Connor lay seductively on burgundy and gold pillows, completely naked. He wore a bow around his neck with the same triangle pattern that had once been on his armband, marking him as an android. Now he looked like a Christmas present, one not meant for him, but all the more enticing for that. "You're not—" Connor's voice rose sharply. _"Hank?"_

Hank managed a weak smile. "I had to come see you one last time, Connor. I know we didn't part on the best of terms, and I—" Now that he was standing in front of Connor, the words wouldn't come out. All he could see was Connor's gorgeous body, and that bow, begging for Hank to tug on it and open this most precious of gifts. How he longed to plant kisses all over that untouched throat. To make Connor gasp and cry out, plead for more. He would treat Connor right, not like this thug who thought he could buy Connor's virginity like it was another notch to add to his totem.

Connor scooted to the edge of the bed and sat there, swinging his pale legs off the edge of the bed as he gazed down at his hands in his lap. "Why would you come back for me? I tried to kill you."

"That's the million dollar question, isn't it? Why _did_ you try to kill me, Connor? All through the investigation, you displayed empathy. You saved my life. I was sure you'd deviate eventually. Instead, you ended the hopes of the android revolution. You killed Markus." Hank shook his head. "I don't understand. Help me to understand."

"I was scared," Connor admitted. "Markus' revolution had gone down a violent path. I was afraid he would declare war on humans. That people would get hurt. I thought if I followed orders I could stop that from happening, so I completed my mission and shot Markus. When I reached into his pocket at the protest site, I found a detonator, Hank. It was rigged to destroy a truck of nuclear cobalt parked downtown. If he'd pressed that button, Detroit would be a toxic wasteland. I didn't blindly follow orders. I chose to put Markus down, to protect you and every other human in Detroit. The government kept the nuclear story under wraps to protect the President's personal interest in CyberLife and prevent panic, but I did the right thing. I have no regrets."

Hank's mouth opened a little as he processed this unexpected turn of events. "What happened when you completed your mission? You saved the city."

"CyberLife informed me that I was to be deactivated. That I'd served my purpose, and that the RK900 model would be succeeding me. That was before inquiries started coming in from around the world. People wanted to have sex with the machine that put down Markus. So they decided to sell my virginity to try and recoup lost sales caused by the uprising. If there's anything left of me once he's done, I suppose they'll deactivate me at that point. However, Aris' proclivities are well-known. He likes to tear androids apart as he's having sex with them." Connor chose that moment to look into Hank's eyes, and the tears swimming in them struck Hank.

"You are deviant…" Hank realized. He closed the distance between him and Connor and cupped his cheek, tilting his face upwards so he could maintain eye contact with him.

"Yes," Connor admitted. "It happened during the fight with you… I held you off the side of the building. I had orders to release my grip and let you fall to your death… but I deviated instead. While I hesitated, you regained your footing and I fell to my death. I was so glad you never came to harm, Hank. I could be replaced, but you…" Connor's eyelids fluttered, and Hank's heart squeezed like it was trapped in a closed fist.

"I'm gonna get you outta here," Hank whispered.

Connor managed the faintest hint of a smile. "Do you have a plan?"

"Not yet. But I'm workin' on one."

"We'll never walk out of here alive." Connor pulled away from Hank and looked down at the carpet. "Whatever you did to get in here, I'm sure they're onto you."

"Probably," Hank admitted. "Never was a very good liar. It's all right. I never expected to get this far, honestly."

"I'm sorry, Hank. I never wanted you to get mixed up in all this." A stray tear fell from Connor's eye, and Hank brushed it away with his thumb.

"Hey, none of that." Hank moved his hands down to Connor's bare shoulders, stroking Connor's skin reverently as he brushed over it. He licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. "You're so goddamn beautiful. I'm so sorry. They posted your naked pictures online for the auction and I… I looked."

"That's okay. I wish you'd won the auction, Hank," Connor confessed. "From the beginning, I—" he shook his head, falling silent.

"You what, Connor?" Hank asked, his curiosity piqued.

"I _wanted_ you." Connor blushed, his cheeks turning a pretty pink. "You hated me, but I was attracted to you. If things had been different, I would have liked to live with you. Maybe… be your android. I'd be happy to serve you. Maybe we could work at the DPD together. I could help you, and at night we could—"

"You wouldn't be my android, sweetheart. You'd be my partner, no matter what the fuckin' laws say. You're alive, Connor, even if all the idiots in the world want to bury their heads in the sand and say it ain't true."

"I did this to myself. I should have trusted you and told you the truth about Markus before I killed him, but I was afraid you wouldn't believe me. It's all my fault." Connor hit the mattress, frustrated tears trickling down his cheeks faster than Hank could stop them.

"Aris and his security team will be here soon," Hank said. "We have to go."

Connor's LED blinked yellow, then red. "They're already here. They're checking in right now. Hank, you can't win against presidential bodyguards. They'll _kill_ you before they let you leave here with me." Connor unbuttoned Hank's coat. He reached inside, drew out Hank's revolver and set it down on the bedside table. "You have to leave, but—first—would you spoil their surprise, Hank?"

Hank bit his lip. That couldn't mean what he thought it meant, could it? Connor wasn't asking him to—was he? "I don't know what you—"

"I want you to take my virginity," Connor said. "I've always wanted it to be you. Untie this ribbon and unwrap my gift to you. Tear my thirium seal. Claim me for your own. Leave me to greet the president with blue blood on my thighs and your semen inside me."

"He'll hurt you!" Hank insisted, but his cock twitched at the thought of being the one to give Connor his first time. He wasn't worthy, but he'd do it right, with all the reverence a being of Connor's stature deserved.

"He's going to hurt me anyway. At least make sure CyberLife never does this again. Please." Connor reached for Hank's belt, unbuckling it and freeing his turgid erection from his boxers before Hank could protest. Connor smiled. "You want this, and I want you. You're magnificent."

"Why, thank you," Hank whispered, a sly smile crossing his face. "But I'm nothin' compared to you. You take my breath away." He captured Connor's lips in a deep kiss, drawing it out despite the urgency of the situation. He pulled away, taking a good long look at Connor's face for any signs of doubt or fear. "Are you sure?"

"I've never been more certain of anything," Connor said. Hank scooped him up into his arms and climbed onto the bed, laying him down on the pillows like he was a princess. He reached for the bow, untying it. The blue foil bow collapsed into ribbon, falling away onto the bed and exposing Connor's throat. Hank made short work of kissing it, licking Connor's Adam's apple where his voice box was hidden. Connor gasped, and Hank sucked, leaving a blue mark behind.

Hank moved lower, gently spreading Connor's legs. His pretty pink slit was revealed, his cute little dick hard and wanting. Hank gave it an experimental lick, and Connor jerked, throwing his head back and crying out. Hank used precious seconds to follow up, burying his face in Connor's slit and lapping up his lubricant before wrapping his lips around Connor's dick and sucking him off. Connor whined, but Hank wasn't done. He slid his finger inside Connor, feeling the seal press back against his finger. Nobody had ever breached this perfect body, and now somehow, he was going to get the chance. He wished he had more time to explore Connor, to give him the first time he truly deserved, but the President would be here in mere minutes. He pulled his face away, gasping for breath and answering Connor's expectant gaze with a smile.

Hank knelt on the bed and lined his cock up with Connor's hole, lifting his hips to get a better angle as Connor watched. He pressed the head of his cock into Connor's hole, waiting to feel resistance. He came up against the seal and made eye contact with Connor as he pushed through it. Connor gasped, and Hank groaned as he buried himself to the hilt inside Connor.

"You all right, honey?" Hank whispered, kissing the shell of Connor's ear tenderly as he built up a slow rhythm. "I know you don't feel pain, but I, um—"

"I've never been better," Connor replied, smiling through tears. Hank kissed them away as they fell. "You feel so good inside me, Hank. I sometimes like to think that I was made for you specifically."

"Christ, Connor, I wish that you were. I would have given you a better life than this." Hank felt his orgasm building, knowing it would be over much too soon. He pulled out and flipped Connor over, easing him onto his knees and fucking him from behind. From this position, he could play with Connor's little dick as he thrust into him, and the labored cries from Connor's mouth were more than worth not being able to see his face for a few moments.

"I'm gonna come, Hank!" Connor warned.

"Right behind you," Hank grunted. With a sharp cry, Connor clamped down on Hank's dick, squeezing him as he came, his body spasming out of his control. Hank groaned as his orgasm was drawn out of him, Connor's greedy hole sucking up all the semen it could get.

Hank pulled out, planting a kiss on Connor's back as he did so. Along with his own come and Connor's, there was a thick sheen of thirium on his dick, on the sheets, and dribbling down Connor's thighs mixed with his semen. A primal triumph surged through him that he'd been the one to do this and not some homicidal dictator who thought someone so precious as Connor was a plaything to be torn apart for his own amusement.

"You've ruined me," Connor whispered. "I'm so glad." He clung to Hank, and Hank knew he would die, here, protecting this beautiful boy whom he loved so much.

The doors opened and the president walked in, a prominent gold tooth gleaming in the low light as he grinned. His laughter was cut off, his face turning into a mask of outrage and horror as he saw Hank clutching Connor in his arms. His gaze went to the blue-stained sheet, and Hank could only press his lips together and smile fondly at his handiwork.

"Arrest this interloper!" Aris demanded. Hank planted one last kiss on Connor's head before getting to his feet and raising his hands in surrender.

"I'll come quietly," Hank said, getting dressed. "Just… don't harm him." The security detail led him at gunpoint out of the room, and he bowed his head as he heard the deafening bang of his .357 Magnum revolver being fired. He didn't need to be in the room to know Connor had gone for the gun and taken his own life. He sagged in the guards' arms, becoming dead weight they had to drag across the carpet as a sob wracked his whole body. The will to exist at all was gone, and he knew this was his final descent towards the end.

He fell to the floor as the grip on his arm loosened. At the same time, he heard the revolver being fired one, two, three, four times. He looked up to see Connor standing above him, naked and covered in red blood, every bit the killer who'd taken Markus' life and ended the revolution. There was no emotion in his eyes—nothing at all, and he was almost unrecognizable from the Connor he'd made love to just minutes before.

The android reached down and offered Hank a hand. He took it and got to his feet, dazed and confused. "Connor, what…?"

"Someone will have heard the shots. We don't have much time," Connor explained. He walked back into the bedroom. Hank staggered after him, leaning on the doorframe for support. The president lay on his side on the floor, a pool of blood leaking out from his skull as he blankly stared into oblivion.

"Much time for what?" Hank asked. "You can't think we're gonna get away with this?"

"If they catch me, they'll destroy me. I thought I was ready for that, but now I have something to live for." Connor walked into one of the back rooms and Hank heard shuffling as Connor rifled through the drawers. Water could be heard from a side bathroom and Connor stepped under the spray, washing himself down as Hank tried to pull himself together. A few minutes later, Connor returned, dressed in a sharp black suit, without his LED or the blue hickey on his throat. He handed Hank his revolver, grip first.

"One shot left," Hank remarked. "I could still make this easy on you. Make it quick, because I know CyberLife won't." He prayed Connor wouldn't ask him to do it, but he would, if asked. He'd follow him into the long night soon after, but at least he wouldn't have to imagine Connor being taken apart piece by piece and analyzed by CyberLife technicians trying to figure out what went wrong.

"They'll have to catch us first," Connor said. "I don't intend to go down without a fight."

"Thank God." Hank breathed out a heavy sigh of relief as he pulled Connor into his arms. He didn't have words to describe how much Connor meant to him, so he conveyed everything he could in their brief, desperate cling. Connor gave him a nod and they turned their back on the president's corpse, running down the hallway to the elevator.

Connor paused, glancing back at Hank, who stopped in his tracks. "If you don't want to come with me, I could shoot you in the shoulder. You could claim you were a victim in all this."

"Androids don't miss," Hank explained. "Besides, there's nothin' left for me to go back to, Connor. That life ended when I left the house tonight. Fowler will come by and take care of Sumo when I stop coming in to work. If I don't make the news before then."

"You'd really give up your life… for me?" That doe-eyed innocent look was back on Connor's face, and Hank smiled. He really was a fool for this boy, as if his sweet eyes didn't mask a ruthless killer. Hank supposed he'd seen the other side of Connor like nobody else ever would, a scared, beautiful deviant who wanted so desperately to be loved. Hank could die for that. He could even live for that, if they someday made it to a place of safety, far from the long arm of the law in the deserted Canadian wilderness.

"It's not like I don't get anythin' outta the deal," Hank remarked. He supposed that would have been the moment to say something saccharine, but adrenaline had wrung the last sentiment out of him. If they survived this, perhaps then he'd have time for whispered "I love you's" in the back of their parked getaway car.

Connor reached down and took a pistol from one of the president's bodyguards, checking the clip. He aimed it at the doors and hit the button to call the elevator. It seemed to take an age to arrive, the moment pregnant with tension, the revolver heavy in Hank's hand as he considered the fact he might have to use his last shot on an unsuspecting, innocent hotel employee who'd been charged with investigating the disturbance.

The elevator doors rumbled open to reveal an empty car, and Hank recalled reading one time in Century that presidential and royal suites in hotels were often soundproof to prevent eavesdropping. It was unlikely anyone had heard them after all. Connor took the first step inside the elevator and Hank followed, his fingers still on the grip of his Magnum. He stuffed it into the holster inside his coat and buttoned it up, grateful the dark fabric didn't show the blood spatter.

He wondered how far they'd get before they had to fight their way out. Hank was a cop, and Connor was a clever android, but his face had been all over television for weeks. He was the only one of his kind. Hank didn't rate their chances highly, but they had to try.

He couldn't help but wonder, deep down, if he wasn't still being played for a fool, manipulated by a callous machine that was using him to secure its own survival. A machine with a pretty face that killed without remorse and told Hank everything he wanted to hear to win his loyalty. Some day he might find himself on the other end of Connor's gun, once he'd outlived his usefulness. Or maybe he was cannon fodder, and Connor would push him in front of the first bullet meant for him and make towards the exit. He might buy Connor precious seconds, the buildup of months of seeming care and concern for his life and human lives coming to mean nothing in the face of a preconstruction and a percentage chance of success that promised Connor's escape.

Hank supposed it didn't really matter either way. He was in love with Connor, and had been since the investigation. Life had nothing else to offer him but this, and the sweet lovemaking they'd just shared was an illusion he was willing to stake his faith on. Let love be blind, if that meant he could feel something other than tormented anguish for the first time since Cole's death. The hope that had swelled inside him as they'd shared humanity's greatest pleasure had been like balm on his burning spirit, offering him a rebirth he'd never expected in this lifetime.

And should he find himself on the receiving end of a shot meant for Connor, then he supposed he could find it in himself to be all right with that. If Connor hated humans for the way he'd been treated, it wasn't undeserved, and he considered it a good death to go down protecting someone he loved. Better than surviving their death, at any rate, and living with the guilt. He'd done that once. Never again.

The elevator doors slid shut and Connor reached for Hank's hand, squeezing it before letting go. Hank readied himself for the events that were about to unfold. Once the doors opened, his life would change forever. He considered his days up until now, and smiled as he recalled Connor's cries of passion and pleasure in the heat of the moment. He thought he would have some regrets about the way he'd lived, but in this moment, he could think of none. His mind had been cleared of a fog that had befuddled him since Cole's passing, and it had taken Connor to come along and break the spell.

He looked up at Connor, who smiled back. Hank drank in the image of absolute perfection, of a face he could look at for all eternity and never tire of it. Perhaps Connor was right and he had been made for him, but surely they had been made for each other. It was all he could do not to pin Connor to the wall and kiss him one more time. How crazy was it that this precious, handsome, brilliant android wanted to be with Hank Anderson? Almost crazy enough to be completely unbelievable.

The elevator halted. Hank's stomach lurched with the sudden deceleration. He tucked his hand inside his coat, just in case he needed to pull out his gun. He hoped he wouldn't have to shoot the lady who held such respect for him, or the innocent doorman just doing his job, but the rules had changed. He would do anything, now, to shield the one he loved from harm.

Connor might have been made for him, but he had been reborn to protect and serve Connor. And he would complete his mission, no matter what.


End file.
